


Long, Lonely Seasons

by Velichorr



Category: Inglourious Basterds (2009)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27145220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velichorr/pseuds/Velichorr
Summary: Aldo was never the same after Donny died.
Relationships: Donny Donowitz/Aldo Raine
Comments: 9
Kudos: 15





	Long, Lonely Seasons

Time passed. The seasons changed, the years came and went. Christ, he missed Donny. Beneath the brawny, muscular, façade of the Bear Jew, he had a boyish smile that could melt any mother’s heart. Not many people knew about his more gentle, playful, side, but Aldo did. Not only did Aldo know about that other side, he would take Donny’s secret to the grave. It was his secret, too.

Aldo couldn’t stop thinking about how Donny died, blown to bits in a French movie theater, taking hundreds of nazis- including Hitler- with him. What a way to go out. At least Donny had died doing what he loved, but that didn’t make it any less tragic. Some nights, Aldo would sit out on his porch with a bottle of whiskey, and he would drunkenly reminisce. He thought of all the times he had kissed Donny. Shoved him roughly into the dirt and kissed him hard on the mouth. Donny liked it rough. Of course he did. They always found unlikely moments to be together: against the rough bark of a tree. In a tiny canvas tent.

Of course, it wasn’t all kissing and handjobs. Sometimes they went further. No one knew. And no one would know unless they were looking for tiny, subtle, things: teasing, suggestive, looks here and there. Physical contact that lasted just a little too long. Aldo and Donny didn’t have a relationship. Not in the typical sense. Aldo _still_ didn’t know what they had. They were bonded together by war, camaraderie, and- of course- killing nazis.

Aldo couldn’t help but smile proudly whenever he saw Donny beat some nazi’s skull in with his bat, blood and bits of brain spattering everywhere. He’d taught him well. He could scare the bejesus out of nazi soldiers just by being himself: tall and hulking, thick cords of muscle on his arms, and an energy that seemed almost feral.

“Look, Jerry, you better talk, ‘cause if you don’t, I’ll bash your fuckin’ head in!” he would snarl, slapping the bat against his hand and grinning maniacally.

Even threats and intimidation worked like a charm. As long as they weren’t suicidally stupid, they always talked. But Aldo had known another side of Donny. That rare gentle side. He was tall, all muscle, with abs like stone. He had the odd scar here and there, souvenirs of war. Aldo still remembered what it felt like, to stroke his dark hair, to kiss his lips or forehead. He seemed so much younger in those moments, boyish and eager to please. A reminder that he hadn’t always been the terrifying Bear Jew, haunting the nightmares of nazis everywhere. Once he had been an ordinary boy from Boston, with a mother who doted on him to the point of suffocation, and a father who ran a barber shop.

At first glance, it seemed like Aldo- who had grown up dirt-poor in small town Tennessee- had nothing in common with him. But he did. They both knew they weren’t like other boys. There was something that set them apart. Donny’s mother was forever trying to set him up with some nice Jewish girl- at least the war had put a stop to that.

Aldo tried to imagine Donny living out the so-called American Dream, married to a girl he didn’t actually love. He tried to imagine him tamed and domesticated, with a nice suit and tie and a 9 to 5 job. He couldn’t picture it. Perhaps it was a mercy that Donny had died doing what he loved instead of spending the rest of his life living a lie. But maybe…Maybe they could have been together. No. Aldo tried to push thoughts like that aside the second they entered his head. There was no point in dwelling on that. It only drove him to drink even more.

There were no happy endings for men and women like them. They couldn’t be together. Not openly. In certain liberal or bohemian places like Greenwich Village, no one gave a shit about two men living together. But other than those outliers? Forget about it. Aldo would have been happy to have a secret, underground relationship with Donny, but anyone else? It wasn’t worth it. Besides, he wasn’t sure if he would love anyone like that ever again. He wasn’t against the odd casual fuck, but love was definitely off the table.

Donny would never get old. He would never have to worry about getting fat and out-of-shape, or going bald, or an aching back. He would always be young and in the prime of his life. Someday, when Aldo was old and graying and a shadow of who he used to be, Donny never would have recognized him. It was so strange to think about. Time would never be cruel to him.

Five years after Donny’s death, Aldo made the long journey to Boston to visit his grave. It was a cool, gray, autumn afternoon. Brown and orange and yellow leaves were scattered all over the grass, crunching dryly under his feet. Aldo was carrying a bouquet of red roses he’d bought at a nearby florist’s, which he placed on the ground in front of Donny’s headstone.

It was made of granite, and had his name and dates and an ornate carved Star of David. Beside Donny’s grave, there was a shared headstone for his parents, waiting for the day they would join him.

“Hey, Donny. Hope you like the flowers. I figured you’d like roses. Hell, just about everybody does…” He muttered, his voice trailing off. It was so ironic. He should have been buying flowers for their fifth anniversary, not laying them at Donny’s grave.

Aldo sighed heavily and shoved his hands in his pockets. He would kill to be walking with Donny on an overcast fall day like this. Even walking together and exchanging sarcastic back-and-forths would have been enough to make him happy. Maybe there would be a dog bounding beside them. It wasn’t like they could have children, so a dog was a good compromise.

Aldo’s fingers itched for a cigarette. He fumbled around in his pants pocket for his lighter and a pack of Camels. He held the cigarette up to his lips and exhaled. Smoking always calmed him down a bit.

“I fuckin’ wish I got to get old with you, you son of a bitch.” He remarked, looking up at the lead gray sky.

No one would have thought they were homosexual. Why would they? They were masculine, red-blooded American men. Of course, the stereotypes of how homosexuals looked and talked and acted were just that- stereotypes- but it _did_ give them a bit of leeway, if nothing else. In those rare golden moments when they had held each other, there was no past and no future. Only the present. Homosexuals. Queers. Faggots. There were a million names for what they were, and Aldo hated them all. What was so wrong, so unnatural, about two men in love? Unfortunately, the world didn’t agree with him.

Aldo finished his cigarette and stamped out the butt. After a moment of hesitation, he picked up the crushed, flattened, butt and placed it on top of Donny’s headstone. Just a small token to remember him by. Then, Aldo checked his pockets to see if he had any change- specifically, a dime. He did, and placed it next to his cigarette butt.

Aldo smiled wryly to himself. He had done everything he could. Now it was time to leave. He turned and slowly began walking away. This was not how things were supposed to be. They were supposed to be spending the rest of their lives together. But it was not a fair world. He knew he could not spend the rest of his life drinking himself into an early grave and longing for what could never be. So he left Donny in the cold Boston earth, and went home to rebuild his life. It was not the life he wanted. But maybe someday, somehow, he would learn to find joy in it.

**Author's Note:**

> There's an interesting urban legend about soldiers leaving coins on headstones to honor their fallen comrades. I'm not sure how much truth there is to this claim, but I thought it would be fitting to include this detail. Aldo specifically leaves a dime because that means he and Donny served together.


End file.
